Early last Friday, John and I packed up the car and headed to New York City for the weekend. Normally when I say that, what I really mean is Brooklyn, because that’s where a good chunk of our best friends and John’s brother relocated to (what felt like) en-masse five years ago, but this time our destination was truly Manhattan proper.
Why? Airbnb, baby. Because we were taking the trip together (we both visit often, but usually separately), renting an apartment through Airbnb let us indulge in a little tourist action while simultaneously sparing our loved ones the joys of having to rearrange their compact NYC apartments for us (not that they wouldn’t have). Emboldened by the arrangement, we didn’t even stick with the original plan of driving to New Haven and then taking the train into the city. We (and by that I mean John) just drove straight in and parked in a garage a few blocks away from where we’d be staying in the East Village.